STARS
by SayMyNameBitches
Summary: A story set before the events of Resident Evil 1 focusing on the stories behind all of the STARS members and also a few police officers, too. Begins with Brad's introduction to STARS as well as their establishment before branching into other character's stories. May contain profanity, violence, drama and sexual content.
1. The interview

**Chapter 1**

A scarf draped upon a snug fleece seemed futile in battling the winter cold, a few steps out of his truck and already his body was shivering with the bitter freeze. It didn't help that he was as light as a feather, so small a breeze would probably do in knocking him off of his feet. Despite his leanness, Brad had the look of a hard-working man. Muscular from his work but skinny due to a poor diet and his cigarettes had never helped either. A bad habit, he knew, but one he'd never quit.

He rushed up the steps toward the Raccoon city police station with guile, a quick-footed response to the seemingly inescapable cold. The darkness of 5:00am clouded his vision but never faltered his step; desperation had fueled his desire to reach warmth; even if warmth meant the ungodly strain of work.

Turning a corner upon reaching the top step, he was greeted with the sturdiness of the station's gate. Large and imposing, it made the station look like less of a haven and more of a prison. The gates may have posed as a main entrance to the station, but every good copper knew nobody but crooks and civilians sauntered through them. To a man like Brad, who'd worked at the RPD for a good five years, the back entrance and the car park were the ways you got in when you didn't want to be bothered by the press or a random person who didn't care whether you were off duty or not. There was always a smugness that lingered when he found himself eyeing the newbies being hounded by the gates, a small spark of superiority one got from the misfortune of another. Brad knew it was mean, he actually sort of hated it, but like anyone; he just couldn't help but do it.

Without another moment of arrogance, he'd reached the doors and promptly swung his strength into pulling one ajar enough to fit his small frame through. They were heavy lumbers of wood those doors were, strong enough to make you feel as though you had to wrestle them just to allow yourself in every morning. A daily test of strength, one would assume.

"Brad! An' there was me reckoning you were gonna be pulling a sickie today after that embarrassment you called an arrest last night!"

The familiar voice came from a copper resting his elbows upon the desk of the reception while he grinned lovingly toward his wife-to-be, Elisha; the RPD's cutest receptionist. Brad would've thought for a moment that his body language was adorable if it weren't for his boyish yells informing everyone in the station of the colossal cock-up that'd occurred the night before.

"Don't you fuckin' start, man!" The pilot hit back with the guile of a viper, his words fell between laughter as his eyes shifted back and forth between colleagues and also crooks.

"What're you arresting the man for, Brad?!" The smiling cop pranced forward, holding his hands as if cuffed while openly mocking his friend. "Harassment, harassment, he says! So I say to him…I say…" by this point, the officer's loudness had attracted quite the crowd of chuckling onlookers "well what has this young gentleman done that could be considered harassment?" By this point, the cop pauses; smirking at those around him while he gives them a little more insight. "Keep in mind, my fellow defenders of the law; Fly-boy over here aint left his desk in a good few years…"  
Eyeballing the floor, Brad let out a guilty chuckle before throwing his head back toward the laughing crowd.

"An', you guys, he looks at me. Goddamn, he looks at me with the eyes of fuckin' G.I Joe . Don't laugh. This aint funny; Brad was dead serious when he looked at me and he said…with the conviction of Mother Theresa…" the cop's eyes begin to water "This young man threw a donut at me!"

As the hall burst into laughter, the man jeered before his audience one more time.

"The lad was fourteen!"

Even Brad couldn't help but laugh at the retelling of his piss-poor arrest, he'd argue against them; he'd tell them all he really needed more arrests that night than he already had. But the fact of the matter was that the copper's laughter was infectious; hell, everyone's laughter was. There was no better way to start the day than a good laugh with the assholes you'd be working through till night with.

Shaking his head as he removed the drapes of his scarf and coat, the pilot mockingly laughed toward the officers poking fun at him before shaking off the instigators taunts with a brief, but noticeable middle finger.

"Settle down, donut-boy." The original story-teller giggled, nudging at his colleague. In retaliation, Brad held his finger up longer.

"Shove this in your donut, starvin' Marvin."

Once again, the hall was an eruption of laughter; the only frowning faces being the row of gloomy souls being booked. Before Brad could crack another smile; he felt the warmth of a hand upon his shoulder. As warm as the clammy flesh may have been, something about the man's paw groping tightly upon the pilot's shoulder made him shiver with discomfort.

Turning to what he could only assume was Satan himself, Brad's smile quickly diminished and in its place spouted a newer, brighter and ultimately faker smile. There was only one man in the station with a sausages answer to talons and that was Chief Brian Irons.

The chief had always been a weird guy; the sort-of man who'd laugh at the punch line of a joke without having heard the beginning. Perhaps it was his way of trying to 'connect' with his colleagues, Brad could never be sure. But one thing he did understand was that every manager-like-figure he'd ever been under before had been an A-grade tosspot and Irons was no different. Irons was just a few thousand-dollar-suits away from being a full-blown fucking psychopath.

"Sir! Chief!" Brad had already fallen flat over his words and the day hadn't even begun yet. _What a start_. "Wasn't expecting t'see you so early…" forced laughter burst through his broken smile.

"Well. I wanted to see that you were prepared." The chief was as blunt as any man at five in the morning ever was; his shiny blue eyes shot from the depths of bags only made by coffee and long-shifts. Brad felt his pain, but he also very much felt his own.

"I am, sir. As ever. I don't start until eight today anyway. I wanted to add some bits to my résumé. I'm excited for this, sir. I'm really looking forward to being given this opportunity."

Brad's ass-kissing could only force it's way so far through before he received a sharp elbow in the back by his good friend, Marvin and an even stronger (inner) one from himself. It was all well and good being the right man for the job, but there was only so much brown-nosing he could apply to the situation before wanting to rip out his own tongue.

"I'm glad to hear it, Vickers." The chief's hand still appeared to be hovering upon Brad's shoulder; his close proximity both threatening and uncomfortable. "Here's a heads up from me. Because I know you're the right man for this job…" he leaned in, pushing his lips awkwardly close to Brad's ear before whispering "you're gonna be interviewed by two guys. One's a science-y type. Real cool though, has a hell of a poker face. The other is a veteran cop. They're gonna be the captains and I'll warn y'now, they don't like bulllshit. My reference can only put you so far. But just go in there an' drop bombs, okay?" He pulled away, pulling away as if he was pushing his weight off of someone after a night of one-sided love making. As usual, he was sweating. Sweating like a guilty man.

Forcing himself hard not to recoil in disgust, Brad nodded before thanking the man for his (unwanted but helpful) advice. As the king-of-the-station turned his back and took leave, Brad turned to Marvin with horrified eyes.

"Jesus, man. I thought he was gonna tongue your ear and call you 'baby'. Now tell the truth here, Brad. Did you fuck your way into that interview? Y'can tell me." Marvin grinned, mocking his friend once more before Brad shot him down with a fake-gag.

"Yeah, Marv. Thought y'knew, me and the chief have got a thing goin'. I popped his cherry and he popped mine and now I'm gonna be on a bigger paycheck than you. Tough break, sister."

Brad grinned sarcastically before leaning back upon the reception desk. "Anyway, officer, haven't you got work to do? Arrests to make?"

"Aint nobody packing donuts this morning, champ. When's your interview?"

"7:20am. before y'start, yes, I am shitting it. When Irons was making love to my ear drum he wasn't whispering sweet nothings to me, he was telling me about the men interviewing me. Fuck man, all this for a bigger pay check."

"Brad. Did you even read the subtext before your applied? The STARS is meant to be a special team. You guys are gonna be bigger than the fucking SWAT team and y'know how much they big 'emselves up. They're makin' you jump through hoops for a reason. Know why they didn't give me an interview?"

"'Cause you're black?"

"No, you racist shit; because I don't do 'Intel' and I can't fly a fuckin' plane either."

"It's not a plane, really; it's a helli…"

"Doesn't matter what it fuckin' is. Point is, Brad. You're a smart guy and that's why they want you. But I think maybe you gotta want it, too. Stop thinking of only the money and really ask yourself if you want to do that shit."

"Alright, Dr Phil, I hear you. Everything will be fine. If I even get it, it'll just be another desk job and the odd flying-lesson to keep me on my toes. _No biggie_."


	2. Introducing Kenneth J Sullivan

"Listen Lea, y'can go out with your "boyfriend" when you've actually gone t'school for a whole damn day!" His voice echoed through the halls of the house and back to his daughter. If being recently made redundant wasn't bad enough, it was worse when you had two teenage daughters to worry about. But so much was Kenneth J Sullivan's life. As sweet as his wife's cooking may have been and as lovely as it was to spend time with his two beautiful (aloof) little angels (teenagers), he'd been bored _. Dreadfully bored._

As per usual in the Sullivan household, things were loud. Mrs. Sullivan was up to the eyeballs with her morning medication, fifteen-year-old Stacey Sullivan was screaming at her older sister Leah to give her the 'goddamn hairdryer' and Leah was letting everybody next door know just why she should be spending the night at her boyfriend's and not with her 'dysfunctional' family. Needless to say, Kenneth found himself quietly staring into his bowl of cereal with a complacent look upon his features.

His wife shuffled past as though possessed by the undead, before stroking a light palm upon his back. "Don't worry about today, sweetie. Just do your best…" she spoke in a sleepy tone, sweet; but so far-gone. Distant enough to make the man feel all-the-more determined to actually get the job and once more earn for his family. Medical bills and benefits only did so much for the family of four and were more than a downer upon their everyday life.

"I will, honey. Don't you worry." His deep, brown eyes met his wife's. She looked so sick it made him hurt. Despite her illness, her beauty was never tarnished and despite being in her late 40s; she looked the same as she had the day he'd met her.

Eyeballing the clock with the same serious stare he'd given his wife just moments before, he pushed himself from the table and breathed a heavy sigh.

"Alright, I'm gonna have t'make my way to the station…" his wife shone him a half-smile before his two girls had entered the room; looking up toward their dad with gleeful smiles.

"Dad, I hope you get it." Stacey mumbled, a small pucker to her lips. Before long, Leah had begun too; smirking up at the giant with a raised brow. "Hey dad, when y'get this job. Be sure to buy me a new car, yeah?" She chuckled to herself; it was always nice to see her dad smile because it so rarely occurred.

"I hope I get it, too, sweetie." After planting a kiss upon each woman's head, he slowly began to leave the room before turning once more to face them "and Leah, you can have a car maybe once you've actually done a full-day in school. Mkay?"

Leaving their smiling faces behind, he waved before closing the door behind him. It was 6:30am and already he knew this day was going to be a long one _; so much for feeling relaxed._

The gates of the station loomed before him as though they were an entrance to hell itself; a god-fearing man, Kenneth took the omen with a small scowl before trekking through them. His suit was a coffee-black, matched with leather shoes and a silk black tie; his Sunday best. Despite being a man of few words and regardless of his current employment status; Kenneth looked confident. He had the charisma and the smarts of a wise man. A veteran and a bio-chemist all in one; it was as though the job had been made for him and with two teenagers keeping him on his heels; he felt himself more than active enough for the job.

"I'm here about the interview…" the words slipped quietly through the crack in his lips; the girl at the reception was a pretty little thing. African-American, short-ish, bunched up hair and a fading smile; she looked at him as though he was an alien, but she seemed polite regardless. Kenneth liked that.

"Oh yeah!" she piped up, smiling through her teeth "round the corner, single door to your right. If you go through there; there's quite a few waiting for the interviews today. Okay, sir?"

Kenneth raised a brow upon hearing that there were others; strangely enough, he'd not even considered it. Regardless, he smiled back at the woman with a nod before heading toward his desired destination; ignoring the strange décor and flamboyant design of the station throughout his trek.

Upon entering the room, the balding man was welcomed by the sound of idle chatter. A few suited-up characters situated beside the silver screen of the reception area indicated rather easily where he needed to go. Otherwise, the room was loud with colleagues shuffling through paperwork, debating about their arrests and otherwise slacking off down their phones to only god knew who.

Taking a deep breath before swallowing hard, the man stepped toward the odd group before taking a seat beside a young woman. Despite being pretty and young; easily in her early twenties, there was coldness in her eyes Kenneth would later recognize as a soldier's stare.

"Y'here for an interview too, are ya?" His smile was polite; after all, he was an easy-going man and quickly her unfaltering stare had broken to exchange a glance with him. Although at first the woman seemed serious and reluctant, a smile turned the corners of her lips up toward the stranger.

"I am. Rear security." Although brief, she'd answered at least.

"Well, hell. I'm going for the position of Chemist, myself. Who knows we could end up working together in the near future."

"Let's hope so…" it was brief before she was interrupted by the hum of Chief Iron's voice echoing from the small room to the left of them; alongside his shout was a leer, apparently a female just simply set him off.

"Young lady!" he called as the woman's stare reversed back into the icy solid look it'd been just a moment before "Jill…uh- Valentine." Upon being met with her rising from her seat, the chief pulled the smile of a Cheshire cat. "Oh yes. Very nice. Come through, please."

Before storming toward his nonchalant sexism, she took one last look back at Kenneth before smiling warmly his way. "Good luck today; I hope we both get what we want!"

Watching her take leave, he reassured her with a small smile of encouragement. Weirdly enough, she reminded him of his youngest daughter. A feisty look in her eyes but a respectful demeanor, she must've been raised well, he thought.

His eyes followed her toward the interview room; through the cracks in the blinds he could see peaks of a blonde-haired fellow and a black-haired Hispanic looking man. Those were the captains, he assumed and upon seeing them and hearing the mumbling of a man beside him as anxious as himself the reality hit him; he could be working here. He could be working again and with that thought, coupled with the idea of his sick wife and hopeful children, Kenneth didn't feel worried; he felt **ready.**


	3. Enter Sniper

**Chapter 3**

It was a real sight to see the rebel suited and booted. His long hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail; his multitude of tattoos had been covered by the modesty of a long-sleeved off-colour shirt and his usual bad-boy scowl had been replaced with a serious smile. Forest Speyer, former-army officer turned security guard could only hope his skills could outweigh his look when it came to getting the job he wanted.

After his stint in the army, Forest had been left with the horror of recurring nightmares and the dissatisfaction of lost faith in his US government. His realisations had been terrible enough to make him hope for a quiet life. But being a security guard was _too quiet_. Too boring to really be considered a decent job and his _growing_ family only demanded more from him.

His feet bumped together a few times beneath the desk as his mind wandered; the raven-haired man before him had been talking for well over five minutes and by the looks of things even the other interviewer was getting tired. Eventually; the man's stern voice came to a halt, interrupted by his partner.

"So, . Considering all that Captain Marini has said; where do your talents lie?" 's voice was serious, frightening. Everything from his dark eyes to his permanent scowls screamed professionalism. Ever-the-rebel, Forest could see himself clashing with the man. An unfortunate reality, it seemed. However; today was not the day for debates, swallowing his defiance, Forest smiled in response.

"Well. As my resume states, I served in the US military until I was twenty-five. I was not only a top sniper, but I transitioned unto the role of Engineer officer. Easy work, but hard; too…"

Cut off by the deepness of the black-haired man's voice; Forest's brows rose.

"Can I ask why you left?"

"Well, sir. Me and my fiancé were expecting a baby. Unfortunately. It didn't work out." The room went silent for a moment as regret made him swallow hard; it was still as raw to talk about now as it was ever. In the end; they'd been trying for three years. "I wanted to stay closer to home. That's why I took the security job."

"I'm sorry to hear that…" Marini sighed, his eyes meeting Forest's with sympathy. He had four kids of his own and couldn't imagine the pain of losing any. If anything, the revelation made him like the guy more. "Can I ask why you're leaving your current job?"

Forest nodded, a small appreciative smile peaking from his features toward the captain. "Certainly; _this job_. I have experience repairing cars, helicopters, tanks; you name it. I'm not a hundred per cent with computers; but I can learn. I'm a fast learner, always have been. I've won awards for my marksmanship in the past, too. I'm practically made for this job!"

Minutes into talking; Forest found himself quietened by the blonde man; his name was Wesker.

"Very good. Well, Forest. I think we've kept you long enough." He remained as cold as ever; not giving away anything to the youngish interviewee. "Any questions?"

"Yeah. When're we gonna hear back an'…uh- if successful, when do we start?"

"It'll be in a few days' time and we expect everyone to be able to start on the Monday. It won't necessarily be a normal shift. Just settling in." For the first time in the entire interview, Forest watched a smile lift Wesker's face. It was almost a little scary.

"Well, that answers my questions. Thanks, guys!" Forest stood from his seat, a wide smile beaming from his face as he held a palm out ready to shake. His Texan accent seemed more prominent with volume than ever.

"Thank you, hope to see you again soon…and good luck!" Marini piped up, shaking the man's hand before Wesker promptly made sure to see the back of him.

"Yeah, babe?" Forest pressed the phone closely to his cheek "I think the interview went fairly well. No real hard questions, jus' a few here an' there that caught me a little off guard. It could be good for us, y'know!" He chuckled warmly down the phone as he took leave from the station.

"Oh! He's kicking! That's great news! What did the doctor have t'say?"

"That's great, honey. Things are lookin' up for us.

Anyway, I get off work later at around twelve.

I'll come home and hold y'as tightly as I can alright? Love you, babe. Catch you later."

"What do you make of 'em, Albert?" Marini looked to Wesker with a pen between his teeth; it'd been a long day. Already over twelve interviews and it was only getting on for eight in the morning. The day could only get longer.

"Yes. We've had some good ones. I don't think much to…" Wesker's eyes glazed over the register "Ryman."

"Oh? I thought he was –okay. Little too much arrogance for my liking, but that comes with the territory." Marini laughed, his eyes piercing Wesker's _; a quip perhaps._

"Hm. I found him overbearing; I don't think he's right for the big leagues. More of a grunt than anything."

Enrico Marini raised a brow, his expression somehow holding back his sheer surprise at the comment. If there was one thing he'd learnt about his fellow captain in the past few hours, it was that the man didn't pull any punches.

"Well, shit, Al. You can be the one to tell him that."

"Gladly."

Enrico glanced away, his teeth gritting at the harshness of his colleague. Seconds later, he turned his vision back to the register.

"So. What do you make of the others?"

"The few that stand out for me, they'll be perfect for the roles assigned to them. I'm concerned about Vickers' low arrest rate. The woman…Valentine; we'll have to keep a close eye on. Another one that stands out for me, Sullivan; well, his age could be a problem. Speyer could be a good addition to the team. Feisty, good marksman by the looks of things."

"Burton is a must. The fact I've known him a while anyway aside; he is a good copper. Great man, too."

"I trust you on that, Enrico."

"Do you think Chief Irons will want a say on our decisions?"

"I think Chief Irons is easily swayed; the man's a fool."

"Ha, you said it. Anyway; who've we got left? Don't tell me there are too many. It's only eight and I'm already dying for a glass o' Gin."

Wesker eyed Enrico slyly, it was as though the man churned every piece of information a person said through his mind and stored it safely into his 'need to know/blackmail' file; ready for use when need be. He responded, accompanying his words with a small sigh.

"It's early. We have a few names left. Aiken, Dewey…and well, Frost didn't show up for his scheduled appointment."

"That's a great first impression, isn't it?" Enrico piped up, rolling his eyes before turning back to the register. "Wanna take a break?"

"May as well." Wesker took a sip of his luke-warm coffee before pulling away to the sight of the door inching open.

"I am so sorry I'm late!" A voice bellowed through the door. "I got stuck in traffic an' then I saw some guy poppin' off at your boys outside an' I just had to clear that down an' that's why I've taken my time. Sorry, guys! Name's Joseph Frost! My interview was scheduled an hour ago...better late than never, eh?!"


End file.
